


My Favorite Treat

by kittykat2892



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cupcakes, F/M, Frosting, Kitchen Sex, Lemon, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykat2892/pseuds/kittykat2892
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has a little fun with his girlfriend  while baking (AKA you, the reader, get to have sexy fun times with the crazy baker we all love~).</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Treat

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on deviantArt under the same username. However, considering dA has pissed me off by deleting this work, it is now going to be posted solely on my AO3 account.

From where you're sitting, you can't see what Oliver is fawning over, but you hear the ding of the oven and his happy humming when he pulls whatever goodies he's baked from the appliance. He glances at you over his shoulder and sends you a sweet smile, which you return.

“Oh, c'mon, Ollie. What're you making?” You ask once again, to no avail.

“Curiosity killed the cat, poppet~” Oliver sings, placing the hot pan on top of the stove to cool. You grin before replying, “But satisfaction brought her back.”

Oliver gives you a strange look before hurriedly turning back to his sweets. You swear you see a light dusting of pink running along his cheekbones before he turns his back to you.

“Just be a little patient, sweetie. I promise you'll enjoy it more if you wait.”

You groan and rest your forehead against the table. “Delayed gratification really isn't my thing, Ollie. If you knew whatever you were going to bake was going to take forever, why didn't you wait to call me over until it was done?”

“I enjoy your company. It's more fun with you here~”

You sigh, but smile at the table nonetheless. There's no way you can stay annoyed with the cute British man. You tense when you feel hands grab your shoulders, your head shooting up, but you quickly relax when they begin kneading your tense muscles.

“What've you been up to lately? You haven't visited me nearly as much as usual, and your muscles are as hard as rocks!” The disapproving note in Oliver's voice makes you giggle.

“I'm sorry, Ollie. Al's kept me busy the past few weeks, running around like a dam--, err, I mean...Like a darned slave. I'm surprised he hasn't forced me into a skimpy maid outfit yet.”

Oliver snorts in distaste, which you barely hear over your whimpers and groans as the Englishman works out the kinks in your shoulders and neck. Al really has been keeping you busy lately, but you don't blame him. There's only so much one man can handle, and even the great and mighty Al Jones has to ask for help every once in awhile.

You shiver when Oliver leans forward and presses his lips against your ear.

“I'll have to have a word with Al. I don't like him keeping my special cupcake for so long,” he murmurs.

You smile and wrap an arm around his neck, turning your head and placing a light kiss on his lips. He smiles widely at the kiss, his blue eyes shining in glee. You gasp and hold your finger to his lips before he can continue his ministrations, causing an adorable pout to form on his lips.

“You know, there is a perk to being Al's fall-back girl.”

Oliver notices the glimmer in your eyes. He tilts his head curiously, waiting for you to continue. You turn in your chair and wrap both arms around the Brit's neck, a devious smile playing on your lips as you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“I get to choose the best ingredients for my absolute favorite baker.”

Your breath caresses his ear, causing him to release something akin to a whine against your neck. You pull away, smirking. The look in your eyes causes Oliver's face to flush, but he watches you intently, waiting for you to say something. You don't disappoint him.

“And the greatest ingredient is sitting right in front of you, isn't she? You can decorate her however you want, and she'll do anything you say,” you say, licking your lips suggestively.

“Th-This isn't really lady-like behavior, is it?” Oliver stutters, but you quickly cover his lips with your own, cutting off his rambling before it starts.

You waste no time in running your tongue along your boyfriend's lips, politely asking permission. He hesitates just long enough for you to grow impatient, and you force your tongue through his lips. He moans as your tongue begins to battle his for dominance, the sudden movement causing something to click in Oliver's mind. He wraps his arms around your waist, dragging you from your chair and pressing his body against yours. You let loose a keening sound from the back of your throat, the close contact driving you insane. You haven't seen Oliver in close to two weeks. How you've missed him!

The two of you pull away, panting, and you laugh at the line of saliva connecting you to him. He grins cheekily, leaning forward and nipping at your ear, turning your laugh into a strangled groan.

“I have yet to create something as beautiful and perfect as you,” Oliver whispers, kissing your forehead. You smile at the compliment.

“That's really sweet, Ollie...But right now, I can think of something sweeter. I haven't seen you in so long...” You let your words linger in the air. If the gleam in your boyfriend's eyes says anything, he's more than willing to continue the train of thought himself.

You squeak when Oliver picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the nearby kitchen counter and sets you down. You tilt your head, confusion flitting across your face. Oliver smiles mysteriously, leaning in and stealing a sweet kiss. You sigh happily as the taste of frosting overwhelms your senses, but Oliver pulls away much too quickly for your liking. You try to pull him back, but he dances out of your range, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Ollie,” you whine, kicking your heels against the lower cabinets.

“Patience, poppet~”

You huff and cross your arms, but stay where you are. Your eyes follow Oliver as he moves around the kitchen muttering to himself. When he pulls a couple of tubes of frosting from a cabinet, you frown, thinking he's still working on his baking. He notices the sour look on your face and laughs, moving back towards you with the frosting in hand.

“What's with that look, sweetie? It's much too sour for my liking,” Oliver teases, setting the frosting beside you and claiming your lips. You react instantly, throwing your arms around the Brit's shoulders and wrapping your legs around his waist, refusing to allow him the opportunity to escape your grasp.

He giggles into the kiss at your actions, responding in kind to your heated administrations. You grin and slide your hands down his sides, feeling the resulting shiver run through his body. Oh, you know all his little quirks and special areas, and as much as it embarrasses him after the fact, he thoroughly enjoys being putty in your hands.

You move your hand to the small of his back, slipping under his shirt and about to slip into the hem of his pants until he reaches around and grabs your wrist. You grunt as he removes your hand and pins it on the counter beside you, quickly doing the same with your other hand before you can react. Oliver breaks the passionate kiss, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Naughty girl~ What exactly do you think you're doing?”

You can't help the low growl that escapes your lips, but Oliver only grins that Cheshire grin of his that sends chills down your spine. Your expectations suddenly sky-rocket upon seeing that pearly smile, and you decide patience is probably one of the better virtues.

“Good girl~” Oliver coos, noticing you're no longer trying to pull your hands away from him. “Now continue being a good girl, and you may get a reward.”

“What reward will that be, dearest?” You ask innocently, crossing your hands in your lap when Oliver releases them.

“Oh, no worries, I'm sure you'll love it. But first things first. I think my cupcake's a bit too bland today,” Oliver frowns slightly, though his eyes continue to twinkle, telling you he's playing. You decide to play along and glance down at yourself curiously.

“But Ollie, I thought you liked this outfit. Isn't it bright enough for you?” You pout while plucking at the hem of your shirt.

“It looks lovely on you, sweetie, but I know something that'll look even better.”

You raise an eyebrow when he reaches for one of the frosting tubes. You open your mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a squeal when Oliver yanks your shirt over your head and tosses it on the table behind him. It takes everything you have to keep from raising your arms, the sudden change in Oliver's temperament startling and exciting.

His blue eyes zone in on the reactions your body has to the cold air, specifically to your now hardening nipples noticeable through your bra. A blush rises on your cheeks under his scrutiny, but you puff out your chest and send Oliver a confident smile. He growls at the movement and leans down, his tongue slipping past his lips to slide along your neck. Your head falls back against the cabinet behind you, your eyes fluttering at the sensations his tongue sends through your spine and down between your legs. You clench your thighs together, trying to stifle the pleasure, but Oliver will have none of that.

You exhale sharply when you feel Oliver's hand push your thighs apart. He continues to pepper your neck with licks, kisses and nibbles while his hand rubs along the inside of your thigh, just skirting over the area where you really want him.

“Oliver,” you plead breathlessly.

“Patience, poppet,” he purrs against your neck, sending another spike of pleasure through your body as his breath caresses your neck and ear. You squeal as a sudden cold feeling runs across your upper chest. You look down and blush when you realize what the frosting is actually for. Oliver gives you one last bite in the junction between your neck and shoulder, probably drawing blood, but the noise you reward him with tells him you find it far from painful.

His skilled tongue moves down from your neck, paying special attention to your collarbone before he reaches the thin line of blue frosting just above your bra. Oliver grins and licks his lips, looking like the cat with the canary in his sights.

You bring your hands up and grip the Englishman's shoulders as he laps at the frosting, the strange feeling of the delicacy only adding to the fire between your legs. The frosting smears along your chest, turning your heated flesh a light shade of blue. When Oliver pulls away, you can't help but smirk.

“Dearest, you have some on your nose,” you whisper, leaning forward and gently licking the bit of frosting from the tip of his nose. You run your tongue along your lips, spreading the blue decoration across them like lipstick. Oliver flushes and presses his lips against yours, hungrily attacking your tongue. He unclasps your bra while he distracts you and throws it somewhere behind him. You moan into the kiss as the cold air hits your hardened nipples, though your lover's hands quickly warm them.

Oliver caresses your breasts, bouncing them in his palms before massaging them with the pads of his fingers. He nips at your tongue, causing you to gasp and thrust your chest closer to him, which he greedily takes as an opportunity. He reaches to the side and grabs another of the frosting tubes while his other hand moves to twist and pull at one of your nipples, causing you to mewl into your still heated kiss. You turn your head, gasping, finding it difficult to get enough air just breathing through your nose. Oliver chuckles and squirts bright pink frosting around your nipples. He tosses the tube to the side and leans down, licking at the frosting.

“Ollie, please,” you pant, squinting at the light pink ceiling.

“Please what?” He asks in a sing-song voice, moving to your other breast to suck at the frosting.

“Please don't tease me,” you whine.

“But it's so fun to tease you, poppet. You make the cutest sounds.”

Oliver does as you request, however, and wraps his lips around your nipple, causing your chest to jerk against him. He hums, pleased at your reaction, and swirls his tongue around your nipple, interspersing the action with sucking and biting.

You throw your head from side-to-side, unintelligible words escaping your mouth that turn into a cry of pleasure when he switches to your other breast and gives it the same treatment. The heat between your legs is close to unbearable by now.

Your strawberry blonde boyfriend grins cheekily at you as he licks his lips, blurring the blue and pink frosting into a stark shade of purple.

“Ollie, please.”

“You have to be more specific than that, sweetie. There're so many things you can ask for, how can I know which one is on your mind?”

You groan in frustration at his childishness, but you're too far gone to truly reprimand him.

“I can't take much more teasing, Ollie. I want you.”

Oliver hums a jolly tune as he grips your wrists and brings them up to his shirt. You don't need to be told twice. You untie the blue bow and drop it to the side before moving your hands under his sweater vest and lifting it over his head. Your fingers work feverishly on unbuttoning his shirt, though it doesn't help your concentration when he flicks your nipple and finally rubs his hand against your crotch.

“C-Careful or you may lose this shirt,” you stutter, narrowing your eyes as you try to focus on the confounding little things.

His voice is deep with suppressed lust as he says, “I don't care. Rip it apart if you want, poppet. I have plenty more upstairs.”

You growl in response and does as he says, ripping his shirt apart and sending the remaining buttons scattering across the countertop. Your hands run across his chest, eliciting a breathless moan when they skim across his nipples. A grin plasters itself on your lips. It had been interesting the first time you two made love. He didn't want you messing with his body in “strange ways,” as he put it then, but now he gets angry when you don't.

He gasps your name when you lap at one of his nipples, one of his hands gripping your hair which only tightens when you give it a tentative suck. Intent on making him repeat your name, you run your hand around to his back and into the hem of his pants, gently squeezing his ass which causes him to buck against your breasts. You rumble in pleasure at the reaction, feeling just how excited he's getting under your careful actions.

You reach down and unbutton his pants, sliding them down to his knees and caressing his member from sac to head. He jerks against your hand and breasts again, earning a moan from both of you at the same time. He pushes your hands away, instead grabbing your breasts and resting his member between your girls. You smirk, gently nipping at his other nipple, which gets him moving. You pant and try to keep your focus as he fucks your breasts, his hard member sliding between them slickly due to his pre-cum.

You whine when he twists his hand and grabs your nipples between his splayed fingers.

“Oliver, I want you inside me. I can't take it anymore!”

The British man grunts and pulls away from you completely, almost causing you to fall, but he catches you and pulls you from the counter, spinning you around so your elbows and breasts are on the counter's surface. He jerks your pants and underwear down in a swift movement, the cold air hitting your soaking womanhood almost too much to handle. You feel tears pinprick at the corner of your eyes, your lust to feel Oliver moving inside you almost painful.  
Your legs almost collapse when you feel Oliver push two of his fingers inside you, a strangled noise between a groan and yell making Oliver jerk his fingers deeper into you.

“You make the cutest noises, poppet,” he pants, gripping your hip with his free hand while his other pumps in and out of your entrance.

“M-More, Ollie. Please, more!”

Oliver inserts a third finger to join with the other two, stretching your entrance almost uncomfortably. You grab the closest thing to your hand when he finds a certain spot inside you, making you scream his name from the sheer pleasure, making you beg for him.

“Oliver, just fuck me!”

He withdraws his hand and just a few seconds later slips his member into your eager entrance in one swift motion. You scream again, tears falling from your eyes from the delight of finally having him inside you.

“You know how I feel about cursing, poppet. You'll have to be punished,” he whispers, leaning over your back and sharply biting the lobe of your ear. You whimper, the faint pain sending pleasure sensations to your already overloaded mind.

“I-I'm sorry, I—Ahh~”

Oliver pulls out until just the head of his member is still inside you before slamming into you. You see stars from how deep he drives into you, melting into his cruel grip on your hips.

Your moans and cries of pleasure blend with the sound of skin against skin and Oliver's own pleasured moans and pants. When he finds that spot again, the stars in front of your eyes turn into meteors and your pleasure meter overloads. Your back arches as you scream his name in your orgasm, the change in position allowing him to brush against that spot with every thrust. Your mind blanks from pleasure as he continues thrusting into you. You can tell he's close due to the erratic jerks of his hips. Your contracting muscles send him over the edge, his seed coating your walls as he moans your name.

After a few moments, he regains his composure enough to pull out of you, making you whimper at the feeling of being empty. Oliver kisses your sweaty shoulders, pulling you away from the counter and supporting your still recovering body.

“I've missed you so much, sweetie. I love you,” Oliver whispers, nuzzling the area where he bit your neck.

“That's an understatement,” you laugh, nuzzling the side of your head against his. He kisses the darkening area on your neck and falls silent...

Until his eyes land on the cupcakes he'd made earlier.

“Poppet?”

“Mmmm?”

“I think you decided to decorate my kitchen in your fit of passion.”

You blink, and flush bright red when you realize you grabbed the tube of pink frosting in your haze of pleasure.

“...Oops?”


End file.
